


Drunk

by Punk, Sab



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Co-Written, Ensemble Cast, F/M, First Time, Humor, punkensab, sexy fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-10
Updated: 2001-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk/pseuds/Punk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Sab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna is marvelous, Sam's a mixed drink, CJ can dance, Ainsley's having tequila, and Josh is any one of the Seven Dwarves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Justin who literally wrote the book on sexy fun. Without him, we'd have Donna contemplating raindrops trailing down the window while Josh had a quiet but inevitable breakdown in the next room. This is for Lesley, because she's good at nagging the Punk half of Punk and Sab.

There was a white kitten chewing on Josh's sneakers way down at the other end of the couch. Josh waggled his feet, trying to scare it off.

"Don't do that," he grumbled, kicking at it.

Nose to the ground, the kitten stuck its back end in the air and wiggled like it was spring-loaded and about to explode.

"Don't!" Josh said louder.

The cat ignored him and pounced, attacking his shoelaces with a crazed kamikaze fervor.

"Stop it!" Josh yelled. "Leave me alone! Go away!"

The light flicked on and Donna shuffled into the room, wearing a puffy white bathrobe and squinting. "Josh," she scolded. "Remember what I said to you when you showed up on my doorstep at the somewhat unreasonable hour of ten?"

Josh pointed at the cat accusingly. "But this animal!"

"No," Donna interrupted, dropping her chin and raising her eyebrows. "Do you remember? How you agreed not to yell at my roommate's cats if I let you in?"

"But!"

"Do you remember that? It was only ten minutes ago." Donna had that pleading look. The one that was asking him not to overreact, not to throw things or storm around yelling.

It had never worked before, he didn't know why she was still trying. "But my shoes! The cat!"

"Josh, you're drunk," Donna said.

"That doesn't change the fact that -- STOP IT!" Josh hollered, pulling his feet out of reach of the kitten and ending up on his back with his feet in the air like a balding thirty-something turtle.

"Josh," Donna chided.

Throwing his feet to the floor, he slouched back against the couch with a sigh. The kitten climbed into his lap and started purring. Josh growled at it, but it didn't seem to care.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Donna stepped around the coffee table and sat next to him.

"I don't knooow," he whined, kicking at the leg of the coffee table like a kid that's gotten called into the principal's office.

"You don't know, you don't know if you're going to tell me? Or you don't know, you don't know what's wrong?" Donna reached over and played with the kitten's pointy tail.

Josh huffed. "Did you just say something? Because you were talking, but it didn't make any sense."

"Don't be mean." Donna curved the cat's tail into a half-circle, then let go, the back of her hand resting against Josh's thigh.

"Heh," Josh laughed. "Not likely."

Donna flipped her hand over in a movement so quick it was nearly a slap. He yelped.

"Do you know what you need?" she asked, looking way too excited for a woman that had a grumpy drunk man on her couch.

"No?" Josh guessed.

Donna nodded. "Of course not. Stand up, I'm getting dressed."

Josh waved a hand and tried to talk.

"Nope!" Donna said, jumping up and grabbing his arm. "You should, jog in place while I'm gone, or run around the block. Get the blood flowing."

"What--" Josh managed.

Donna pulled on his hand. "You have been in a bad mood all day, and just when I thought I was free of you, you show up where I live to be in a bad mood on my couch."

"Uh?" Josh interrupted, blinking.

Donna looked prim. "I'm putting a stop to it. Ainsley and Sam and CJ are at Morgan McKenna's, and we're going to join them."

"Oh, because I'm not drunk enough."

"Up!" Donna demanded.

"Fine, fine, I'm up," Josh said, not really up, and still with a kitten clinging to his jeans.

"I'll be right back," Donna promised, whisking off to her bedroom. Josh watched her go. The kitten sneezed.  


* * *

  
"Get your sexy ass over here and buy the next round, Lyman," CJ bellowed. "Seeing as you make more than the rest of us put together."

"That," Josh said, sliding into the booth and dragging Donna by the elbow to sit next to him, "is a bald-faced lie."

Sam held up his empty beer glass to the light and peered through the bottom of it. "He doesn't make more than I do."

"Actually, I do," said Josh.

"Oh," Sam said. "Wait. How do you know how much I make?"

"Buy the goddamned beer," CJ said. "Who's got quarters for the jukebox?"

Ainsley did, and CJ got up to find out if Morgan's jukebox stacked mid-90s R&amp;B, and Donna poked Josh.

"Move over."

"Heh?"

"Move over, Josh, I'm falling off the thing."

He scooted further into the booth, pressing up against Sam's shoulder. Sam squinted at him. "What is this, the bears in the bed? I'm supposed to fall off the other end now?"

Josh flailed a little bit, arching his back away from the booth so he could dig in his back pocket for his wallet. "Pick on me not quite so much?" he pleaded. "I'm already two G&amp;T's into a very peculiar night."

"You shouldn't drink any more, Josh," Donna said.

"You brought me here!"

"To socialize. Remember how that works?"

He nodded, grabbing her hand and pressing his wallet into it. "Find yourself the kind proprietor of this establishment, and buy a nice little mid-range something-on-draft for our compadres here, Donna."

She screwed up her face into a pout. "I'm your errand girl?"

"You're my assistant. And I make more money than the rest of you put together."

Donna stood up, and Josh slid down the booth a little, giving Sam some more room. "Can't argue with that," Donna said. "Mid-range draft beer for any and all."

"You really make more than me?" Sam wasn't letting this one go.

"Shoo," Josh said, and Donna left, and CJ came back.

"I don't know who listens to the Eagles anymore," CJ said, sliding in next to Ainsley, "but I'll tell you, they must all come to this bar."

"Can I have my quarters back?" Ainsley asked. "I have to do laundry."

Josh watched Donna, who was standing on tiptoe and leaning across the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention. She was in jeans and sneakers and he'd been surprised how short and unassuming she was in real life, but up on tiptoe with her calves arched and her shirt pulling up exposing a little sliver of back above her belt, she was anything but plain. The G&amp;Ts hadn't even begun to wear off, and his face felt hot, his bones liquid as he watched her turn her head from side to side, following the bartender as he poured something and shook it and slid it down the bar.

"That girl," Josh said, pointing at Donna, "is a marvelous thing."

"Donna?" Sam said. "She really is."

Josh watched his friends with some sort of absurd pride as they all took a Donna-appreciation moment, nodding and smiling and agreeing.

"She's real nice," Ainsley said. "She doesn't look anything like me, though."

"No one ever said she did," Sam said.

"You said that," CJ pointed out.

"Well, no one but me," Sam conceded.

"She doesn't," Ainsley said.

Donna came back with a pitcher and one glass, which she filled for herself before sitting down.

"Hey hey hey," Josh said. "First, wallet?"

She handed it back.

"Second, glass?"

She shook her head. "You're soused, Joshua," she said. "Just sit here and socialize like a person."

"I am hardly soused," Josh said, stuffing his wallet under his butt. "The evening's just begun!"

He reached out to take a sip of her beer, but she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the glass like a crazy mama bird protecting her egg-babies. "Nope," she said, and when he reached into the space between her shoulder and her chin she batted him away, taking his hand in hers and holding it. She was surprisingly strong.

"Okay," he said. "I'm just gonna sit here and socialize like a person, then."

She didn't let go of his hand right away, but when she did, she reached up and batted him on the nose. "Good," she said.

"Josh was just saying how marvelous you are, Donna," Ainsley said, matter-of-factly. "In fact, we all were."

Donna tipped her head to the side and clapped a hand to her cheek like some 50s housewife. "Really?"

"Really," CJ confirmed.

"They're taking it, they're taking it out of context." Josh said, shaking his head.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "And what context was that?"

"Aw, don't fuck with me," Josh moaned. "I'm sleepy and grumpy."

"And Dopey?" CJ tried.

"I'd go with Bashful," Donna said, patting Josh on the back.

"Is there a Wealthy dwarf?" Sam asked.

"Come on, Joshua," CJ said, standing up again. "Now is the time when we dance."

"Dance with you, Claudia Jean?" Josh winced, and his voice went up a half-step. "You're not, you're not gonna try and lead or anything, are you?"

Donna slipped out of the booth so CJ could drag Josh to his feet. "I'll have you know, I am a very graceful dancer," CJ said.

"Yeah," Josh said, letting her pull him onto the parquet dance floor. "I'm sure."

The truth was he couldn't really tell, but she let him lead and they box-stepped slowly to something with drums that didn't necessarily want a box-step.

"Tell me why you're such a grouch," CJ said, between a step-two-three and a different step-two-three.

"I'm not a grouch," Josh said. "I'm just, I'm very droll."

"No," CJ said. "Tonight you're a grouch on top of being droll. You were a grouch all day at work. Talk to me."

"Eh," Josh said, stepping-two-three and nearly colliding with a fat square woman in four shades of purple silk. "Life's an eddy of despair, I'm gonna die alone, I can never find socks that match and my rent just went up three more dollars a year."

CJ nodded knowingly, taking a step backward to avoid the swaying purple square woman. "K-Mart's got a deal on socks," she said. "Get ten pairs of black ones."

"Good advice," Josh said.

"And about the other thing? You should probably be among the first to know that you're in love with Donna."

He stumbled a little, and a blond kid with the white-boy's overbite danced into him. "I, excuse me, what? Donna? My, my assistant Donna?"

"The marvelous Donna," CJ said, looking very smug. She spun Josh around, pulling him to a safer and more vacant corner of the dance floor.

"I am so, so very, very not in love with my assistant Donna," Josh coughed.

"Then you're doomed to die alone," CJ said. The music changed, and she let his shoulder go. "Oh, man, I hate this song."

She started back toward the booth, but he reached out an arm like a turnstile to stop her. "You're just gonna go?" He squeaked, gesturing with his chin at the booth where Ainsley was teaching Sam how to pour beer without letting the head overflow. "Over...there? Where the people are?"

"I happen to enjoy the people, Josh," CJ said. "In fact, I came here to spend time with the people."

"But, but, Donna..." Josh croaked.

"Take it or leave it, Joshua," CJ shrugged. "She feels exactly the same way. Take it or leave it."

CJ pushed Josh's arm aside and wandered back to the table, leaving him alone on the dance floor with the purple woman and her husband, who were boogie-ing absurdly to "Sultans of Swing."

After being jostled and bumped by just the right amount of drunken people with no rhythm, Josh finally went back to the booth. Donna had taken his place and he was forced to balance on the edge of the hard wooden seat while Donna told CJ a complicated story about the Department of the Interior, a bicycle messenger, and a missing sandwich. On Donna's other side, Sam was trying to flip Ainsley's quarters into a used shot glass and Ainsley was complaining she was going to smell like tequila the next time she went to do laundry.

"You already smell like tequila because most of that shot ended up on your sleeve, and what you didn't spill, you threw at me," Sam pointed out, accidentally flipping a quarter into CJ's lap.

CJ raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey, bucko, I don't know what you've heard, but a quarter isn't going to get you very far."

Sam blushed and stammered about five apologies before he realized CJ was kidding. "Oh," he said.

"This is mine now," CJ said, pocketing the quarter.

Ainsley opened her mouth and made a tsking sound. "Sam," she said plaintively, rolling her eyes. "I cannot possibly do my laundry--"

"You need more tequila," Sam decided. "You're still getting on my nerves."

"You mean, it's possible that at some point she won't?" CJ asked, sounding doubtful.

"I've seen it. With my own eyes. She gets," Sam paused to line up another quarter, "twirly."

"Twirly?" Donna repeated.

"Twirly," Ainsley sighed. "The President saw," she confided. Wrinkling her nose, she frowned, "Did he call me a sex kitten, or did I imagine that?"

Sam's quarter bounced off the pitcher and landed in the red restaurant candle. Donna giggled. "Did that count?"

"You've always sucked at quarters, Seaborn," Josh declared, trying to get at least most of his ass on the bench and bumping into Donna, who was warm and smelled like beer and fabric softener. "Gimmie," he said, sliding a hand along the table to snag one of Ainsley's quarters. Sam pulled them out of reach before he got there, so Josh took a detour and stole Donna's beer instead.

He was at that point in the night where it felt like he'd been awake for years, and everything was clear in the soft and fuzzy way of alcohol and sleep deprivation. He felt perfect, if a little confused. He figured a beer would help.

"Joshua," Donna said, leaning down to look him in the eye. He found his head propped up by one hand and the rest of him hunched over Donna's beer. "Huh!" he grunted, wondering if he'd fallen asleep.

"That's my beer, Josh."

"Yeah?" he said.

She smiled at him and her hair slid forward to brush along his arm. "You took a little nap there."

He shook his head, still propped up on his arm. "Nuh-uh."

"Get this guy a job at the White House," Sam joked, returning with a stack of quarters and a tequila for Ainsley.

"I'm fine," Josh grumbled, picking up Donna's beer.

Donna put her hand out. "Hand it over, Josh."

"Donna! I'm, I'm drinking this beer!" Josh said, trying to raise the glass to his mouth, except Donna suddenly had a hand on his arm, her fingernails tickling under the sleeve of his t-shirt as she fought him for the glass.

"I'm drinking this beer!" Ainsley mimicked, tossing back her tequila and giggling.

"I am!" Josh insisted.

"No, you're not, Joshua. Let go."

"What are you, like, my--" He found he didn't like any of the words that would have normally completed that thought.

"I hear K-Mart's got a great deal on socks," CJ said offhandedly. Ainsley stared at her, puzzled, but clearly preparing to launch into a tequila-aided rant about something she felt was relevant.

"Somebody stop her," Josh said, holding up a hand and gesturing to the CJ and Ainsley side of the world.

Taking advantage of Josh's distraction, Donna grabbed his beer arm with one hand while she ran the other down his side, tickling until she found the spot that made him squeal like a little girl.

"How embarrassing," CJ remarked. "For you, that is. I'm rather enjoying it."

"Hee hee," Sam giggled.

"Oh, dear." CJ laughed at him. "These girls just can't hold their liquor."

"Will you give me my beer?" Donna asked, sounding like the beginning of a Dr. Seuss rhyme and giving Josh a little pinch. Josh sputtered, way too drunk to be tickled. There was every chance he might start crying along with the squealing and panting and CJ would never let him live it down. He let go of the beer so he could properly defend himself.

"Ah HA!" Donna cried, reclaiming her beer and sloshing a little on Sam.

"Oh, not you too," Sam sighed. "I'm like a mixed drink over here."

"Poor Sam," Donna said. Turning to Josh, she looked him in the eye and said, "We need napkins."

"And more tequila!" Ainsley sang.

Josh nodded. "That's fine. I approve."

"Josh," Donna growled, "could you just--?" She sighed, shoving him. "Here, let me out."

He didn't move, and Donna crawled over him, putting a hand on the top of his head for balance and hopping from the booth. As soon as she was gone, Josh took her place and tried to impress upon Sam the importance of the thumb in the average game of quarters.

"The thumb is important," Sam said.

"The thumb is, like, _beyond_ important," Josh counseled. "But you can't underestimate the positioning of the, actual, uh, thingy itself."

"Are either of you going to remember any of this tomorrow?" CJ asked, waving a hand at them.

"I think I left my iron on," Ainsley frowned.

"Napkins!" Donna announced, sitting down again and offering one to Sam.

"I don't need that," Sam said bravely. "Cotton is a natural fabric, it should get along well with beer."

Ainsley perked up. "And tequila!"

"I'm just going to be here for a second," Josh said, slumping down in the booth a little and resting his head on Donna's shoulder. "And if everyone is very quiet it would be sort of nice."

"You're going to take a nap?" Sam said.

"Here in this bar?" Ainsley said.

"On my arm, Josh?" Donna said.

"You're all lunatics," CJ said.

"I'm going to just be here very quietly for a little while," Josh said, scrunching up his nose and trying to figure out why his eyes were closed.

Sam got up, and the absence of his body as a bookend sent Josh sliding down the leather-vinyl of the booth seat. His head disappeared under the table and he opened his eyes to see particleboard and some old gray little oysters of dried chewing gum. He realized his head was on Donna's thigh, but before he could sit up again her fingers were moving idly through his hair.

He folded his legs up on the booth and closed his eyes again.

Donna's leg was warm and her jeans smelled like jeans, some combination of yeast and laundry. Josh rubbed his nose on the denim, feeling heavy and warm and out-of-body-ish. Her fingernails scritched his scalp and he nearly purred.

"Josh?" some girl was asking, quietly, and he didn't think it was Ainsley. "Donna, you think you might want to take that poor bastard home?" It was CJ.

He pulled himself back to the table, nose and eyes and fingers over first like Kilroy. "I'm good," he said. "I'm fine, CJ. I was just enjoying...the vast array of chewing gum. It's like a little petrified forest under there."

"And now you've shared that image with the rest of the class. We'll never be able to properly thank you."

"I'm awake!" Josh squawked, stretching his arms up above his head. Sam had moved to the other side of the booth and was sitting next to Ainsley, stacking the shot glasses in a little wobbly tower.

"Josh?" Donna was looking at him funny.

"Uh, yeah, it's still me," he said.

"I was just thinking. We need to put you to bed."

"You brought me here!" Josh reminded her for the second time that night.

She nodded. "I did at that. And you were very good about socializing."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sam said.

"You were moderately good about socializing," Donna amended. "And now it's time for you to go to sleep."

"Nah," Josh said. "Now it's time for you to buy me a beer." He looked at his watch. "It's only just midnight a little bit. Past midnight."

"It's one fifteen," Ainsley said.

"Okay," Josh agreed. "Good, then. It's Miller Time!"

"It is absolutely not Miller Time," Donna said.

"And we're drinking Sam Adams," Sam said.

"We are?" CJ looked at her glass. "I thought it was Pete's IPA."

"You have a lousy palate, then," Sam said.

"You're drinking Yuengling," Donna said. "I bought it because it was the cheapest one."

"I think, then, by definition, Josh is the cheapest one," Sam said.

"I'm thrifty," Donna said.

"She's thrifty," Josh patted Donna on the shoulder.

"Tell you what," Sam said. "Don't be thrifty with Josh's money anymore."

"I'm drinking tequila," Ainsley said. "All the tequila in England."

"All the tequila in Mexico, maybe," Sam said.

"The finest tequila in England," Ainsley went on, waving her hand above her head. "Fit for a queen."

CJ started laughing. "I feel like I stumbled into some surreal German performance art piece," she said.

"Get down, get down, chicka-chicka," Josh started singing, making little dancy movements with his fists in front of his chest.

"You are such a white boy," CJ said.

"An overtired white boy," Donna said. "Come on, Josh. I'll take you home."

"I don't wanna GO!" Josh said, slapping the table. He felt some sort of strange panic rising in his chest, like he couldn't be responsible for what happened if he stood up or left this booth or this bar, and he was hoping no one would make him do any of those things.

"Afraid of those new socks?" CJ asked, pointedly.

"Socks!" Josh hollered. "Terrified of socks!"

Ainsley looked from CJ to Josh. "You're both very strange individuals," she said.

"Let your marvelous assistant take you home," CJ said.

"Let me take you home, Josh," Donna said.

He took the opportunity to drain her beer glass, and then slammed it on the table victoriously. "Take me home, then, fair maiden of Maryland and Virginia!"

Donna stood up, and then held out both her hands so she could drag Josh to his feet.

"You can, you can have my seat back," Josh said to Sam.

"No, you can't," Ainsley said. "You're very soft and warm."

"I'm very soft and warm," Sam said. "I guess I'm staying here."

Josh squinted at him. Sam nodded.

"Uh-kay?" Josh said, shrugging. He stumbled a little, backwards, and Donna propped him back up again.

"There must be something in the water," CJ said, looking at Sam and Ainsley and then up at Josh and Donna.

"I'm drinking tequila," Ainsley pointed out.

"I've heard that," CJ said.

"We're leaving," Donna said. "We'll see you all at work."

"Indubitably," Sam said.

"The daily grind," Ainsley said, waving her hand like an orchestra conductor and nearly knocking over Sam's leaning tower of shot glasses. He caught her wrist and set her hand down on the table, gently, and she didn't seem to notice. "The old nine-to-five. Punching the clock."

"See you, Donna," CJ said. "Don't let him fall down, or anything."

Josh turned around and leaned back against the back of the booth. He took both of Donna's hands in his. "I have to tell you something."

"You're drunk, Joshua," she said, trying to get him into his jacket.

"Maybe so," he agreed. "I, um, I have to tell you something."

Donna almost smiled. "You mentioned that."

Josh tried to think. "CJ...CJ's in love with you."

"Excuse me?" CJ cackled.

"No?" Josh said.

"Excuse me, Joshua, but that's not exactly what I told you."

"It isn't?" Donna looked confused.

"Ask him," CJ said, gesturing with her head at Josh.

"Oh, yeah, no, it's, uh..." He furrowed his brow. "I forgot."

"You forgot."

"He forgot," CJ said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"I'll, uh, let you know if it comes to me."

"I'm going to take you home now, Josh. You need to go home now," Donna said.

"Ah -- yeah. Probably a good idea. Yeah." Josh threaded his arm through Donna's elbow.

"Y'all drive safely," Ainsley said.

"We took a cab," Donna said.

"Well, cab safely, then," Ainsley said.

"Josh can afford it," Sam said. "Don't let him convince you to put in for the tip."

"I would never do that," Donna said with an efficient nod.

"We're -- Donna's gonna take me home, now," Josh said. "Hm. Donna gonna. That doesn't rhyme, really. How bizarre."

"The o's are different," Sam explained. "The first one's short. The second one--"

"Oh, shut up, Seaborn," Ainsley said, smacking him on the shoulder.

"Josh? We're going home?" Donna looked at him.

"Yeah," he said.

"You're not, like, moving, or anything, is all I'm saying," Donna said.

Josh looked at his feet. "Oh," he said.

"Adios, mis amigos," CJ said. "Mis companeros. Mis compadres. Pals-o-mine."

"See ya, CJ," Josh said, and Donna grabbed him by the small of his back and steered him toward the door.

"I was saying good-bye!" Josh protested.

"You can say good-bye tomorrow," Donna promised him.

Josh thought about it. "Okay."

It was warm outside and the cicadas were humming like a ten-speed going down a hill. Josh yawned. "I'm hungry."

Donna unwound herself from his waist and leaned out into the street, looking for a cab. Josh wobbled a little and fell forward, regaining his balance against Donna's pointy shoulderblades. She wrapped an arm around her back and grabbed his thigh to steady him, holding her other hand out for a cab.

"You got me," he said. "You -- you're holding me with the thing, by the thing. And your back is so _pointy_!"

"If it weren't for me you'd be face-first in the gutter, Lyman," Donna said.

"I would!" he said, vaguely excited by the prospect, for some reason. He leaned his cheek between her shoulderblades. "Why -- why is your back so pointy, though?"

"I'm genetically slender," she said. "I have a delicate frame."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled himself up so his head was on her shoulder, his cheek pressed against hers. "You're warm," he said.

"It's a warm night," she pointed out.

"I said you were marvelous, before," he said, feeling himself sober up a little, standing here with Donna, cheek against cheek. "I meant it."

She nodded, and he felt her smooth skin move against his jaw. "I know, Josh," she said.

He thought about this afternoon. He'd been cranky all day, he'd forgotten to eat, and when Donna brought him half a club sandwich -- half _her_ club sandwich -- he'd waved her away, telling her he had more important things to worry about. "Fine," she'd said. "I can save the other half for dinner, which is good, because I just paid my phone bill and I'm broke."

He'd called her a big dork for that, but now he realized that all the times she'd bought him bagels with her pocket money she'd done it because she was worried about him, because she wanted to take care of him. Because it made her smile to make him smile.

"Thanks for the sandwich," he said.

No cabs were showing up. "Sandwich?"

"Today, the club sandwich. That was really nice of you, Donna."

"You need to eat, Josh," she said.

He was steadier on his feet now, and he backed away a little, his hands on her ribs, turning her around so she was facing him. Her cheeks were pink and she gave him a little half-smile, looking nervous.

"You're marvelous," he said.

"I know," she said.

"Donna--"

"You're drunk, Josh."

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I mean, yes. Sure, I'm a little drunk. I was drunk. Definitely I was drinking."

"So I'm saying."

"But you're marvelous even -- even when I'm not drinking. And I just, I don't tell you. Often enough."

"You don't tell me ever," she pointed out.

"Okay," he said. "So not often enough."

His hands were still on her ribs, the spaces between the bones cradling his fingers.

"So I'm marvelous then," Donna said, tilting her head with a smile.

"Yeah, pretty marvelous." Josh made a face, like that was obvious.

"Well, that's good. Maybe they'll put me on a stamp after all."

"Yeah," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, "they should. I mean, they really should. And not a postcard stamp or one of those, those three _cent_ things no one ever uses. No, first class, all the way."

Donna looked like she was going to cry, or maybe laugh. "Oh, Josh."

He brushed a thumb over her cheekbone and tangled his fingers in her hair, feeling drunk and warm and happy. "Thank you, for, you know, being so marvelous."

She sighed, and he kissed her.

"So, turns out, you're pretty great yourself," Donna said.

"Well, I don't like to brag," he dropped his chin, "but--"

She leaned back and hit him on the arm. "I can see where this is going, Joshua Lyman, and I want no part of it."

He tried playing innocent, but it wasn't easy after all he'd had to drink. He had a feeling he was grinning uncontrollably. "Uh, no part at all?"

"No part of the bragging part, maybe a little of the other part." Her hand snuck around and pinched him on the butt.

"Donna!"

She shook her head. "You're drunk, Josh. I'm going to take you home."


End file.
